The Golf Course – Chapter 2

“Dude! where have you been!” Jack yelled out to Ryan as he saw him walking on the cart path of hole number one up to the club house.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to get up early and walk the course.” Ryan said as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“We were supposed to meet at the clubhouse a half an hour ago. We were looking all over for you. We were starting to panic a little.” Fred said in calm yet uneasy voice.

“Guess I lost track of time, my bad. I’ll go get my clubs and meet you at the first hole.”

The morning mist clung stubbornly to the grass as Jack, Fred, Jimmy, and Ryan teed off for their second day of golf at Green Pines Resort. The previous night’s tension seemed to have dissipated somewhat, with Ryan appearing in better spirits. Whatever had been weighing on him seemed lighter, though Jack could still sense a subtle undercurrent of unease.

They had all woken up early, eager to beat the mid-morning crowd and get a full round in before heading back to the lodge for lunch. The weather was perfect—cool but not too chilly, with a light breeze cutting through the crisp morning air. The course was practically empty, and aside from the chirping of distant birds and the occasional rustle of wind in the trees, the only sounds were the soft thwack of golf clubs and the rolling of golf balls across the pristine greens.

Mornings like this one is why they would set their vacation timers to count down the seconds until the next golf trip every year.

“Hole 13,” Fred announced as they approached the next tee box, eyeing the flag in the distance. “This one’s going to be tricky. Narrow fairway, sand traps everywhere. I’m calling it now—double bogey for Jimmy.”

Jimmy smirked, wiping his driver with a towel. “If you spent as much time practicing as you do talking, Fred, maybe you wouldn’t need to pray for bogeys.”

Fred reached into his bag and threw a ball underhanded to Jimmy. “Here is pink ball for you so we can find it easier in the trees.”

Jack chuckled, standing off to the side, adjusting his gloves. Ryan stood a few feet away, leaning on his club and staring off toward the tree line that bordered the course. Jack had noticed that Ryan had been increasingly distant again, though he had been making an effort to be more engaged that morning.

Fred stepped up to the tee box first, doing his usual pre-swing routine of exaggerated stretches and practice swings. He lined up his shot, took a deep breath, and let it rip. The ball sailed through the air in a beautiful arc before landing squarely in the middle of the fairway.

“Not bad,” Fred said, clearly satisfied with himself.

Jimmy stepped up next, determined to outdrive Fred. He swung with all his might, sending the ball soaring over the fairway and landing just beyond Fred’s ball.

“Beat that,” Jimmy said, tossing his club into the air and catching it smoothly. Fred scowled, but Jack laughed.

“Your turn, Ryan,” Jack called, turning to see Ryan still staring into the woods, lost in thought.

Ryan snapped out of his stare and approached the tee box. He gave a half-hearted practice swing before stepping up to the ball. His swing was fluid, but it lacked his usual precision, and the ball veered off to the right, landing somewhere near the tree line.

“Looks like you are going to be working on your trick shots today,” Fred quipped.

Ryan didn’t respond, just gave a small nod and hopped into his cart.

Jack watched him get into his cart and start driving away. “Hold up” Jimmy yelled at Ryan. “Jack hasn’t hit yet.”

“Go ahead, Jack. You’re up,” Jimmy called, snapping Jack out of his thoughts.

Jack lined up his shot and sent the ball down the fairway, landing just short of Jimmy’s. Ryan took off immediately heading towards where he saw his ball go into the woods. The three friends looked at each other all with the same look in their eyes.

“What is going on with Ryan?” Fred said. “Something has been bothering him since we picked him up”.

“I’m going to help Ryan find his ball,” Jack said, veering off toward the tree line.

“You sure he hasn’t been grabbed by a sasquatch already?” Fred called after him, laughing.

Jack ignored him, his eyes scanning the dense woods as he approached. He pulled up by his cart. Ryan was nowhere in sight. The underbrush was thick here, and the trees towered above, their branches intertwined, casting dark shadows over the ground. Jack stepped through the foliage, calling out for Ryan as he went deeper into the woods.

“Ryan!” he shouted. There was no response, only the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Jack frowned. The ball couldn’t have gone that far off course. He walked further in, pushing aside branches and trying to peer through the thick brush. He called Ryan’s name again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

His heart began to race, and that knot in his stomach tightened. Jack stopped walking and listened, straining his ears for any sound—footsteps, the rustle of clothing, even a distant voice. But there was only silence. He turned back toward the course, now barely visible through the trees. The others were dotting the fairway, seemingly oblivious to his growing concern.

“Ryan!” Jack yelled, louder now, almost shouting.

Again, there was no answer.

Jack took a few more steps forward, his golf shoes crunching over dry leaves. A sudden movement to his left caught his eye—just a flicker of motion, almost too fast to register. He turned quickly, his heart leaping in his chest.

But there was nothing there. Only shadows.

“Ryan!” he called again, his voice wavering slightly.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Jack was about to turn back when he spotted something glinting in the underbrush up ahead, near the base of a tall oak tree. His pulse quickened as he approached it. When he crouched down, his breath caught in his throat.

It was Ryan’s golf club, half-buried in the dirt.

Jack’s mind raced. Ryan wouldn’t have just left his club behind. He stood up, scanning the surrounding area, looking for any sign of his friend, but there was none. He was alone.

Jack grabbed the club and hurried back toward the course. He found Jimmy and Fred out in the fairway waiting for them to come out after they found Ryan’s ball.

“Hey, where’s Ryan?” Jack asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Fred looked up, frowning. “Still looking for his ball, I guess. Why?”

Jack held up the golf club. “I found this in the woods, but no sign of Ryan.”

Jimmy straightened, the smile fading from his face. “What do you mean? He’s not out there?”

Jack shook his head, his unease growing by the second. “I called for him, but he didn’t answer. And then I found this. I didn’t see him anywhere.”

Fred’s grin disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Maybe he walked back to the lodge?”

Jack shook his head again. “I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything about leaving. And why would he leave without taking his cart or golf clubs?”

“Maybe he is just messing with us”, Fred said. “He has been different all day”.

Jimmy stepped forward, his expression serious now. “Let’s go check the woods again.”

Together, the three of them retraced Jack’s steps, calling Ryan’s name as they pushed through the dense trees. They split up, each taking a different direction, searching for any sign of their missing friend.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours. The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, the shadows deepening with every step. Jack’s anxiety grew with each passing second. There was no sign of Ryan—no footprints, no broken branches, no sounds of movement. It was as if he had simply vanished.

By the time they regrouped at the edge of the woods, the tension between them was palpable. Jack’s heart was pounding, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, his face pale. “This doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t just leave like that.”

Jimmy, usually the joker of the group, was now deadly serious. “We should check the lodge. Maybe he headed back there for some reason and just didn’t tell us.”

Jack nodded, though he wasn’t convinced. Something about the situation didn’t feel right. But they had to check.

They hurried back to the golf carts, Jack still clutching Ryan’s golf club like it was some kind of lifeline. They drove back to the lodge, their eyes scanning the course and the surrounding area for any sign of Ryan.

When they arrived at the lodge, they went straight to the front desk, asking the staff if anyone had seen Ryan.

“No one’s come through here since you guys left for your round this morning,” the receptionist said, frowning. “Are you sure he’s not still on the course?”

“We’ve checked,” Jack replied, his voice tight. “He’s not there. We don’t know where he is.”

The receptionist’s expression shifted, concern flickering across her face. “I’ll call security. We can help you look.”

Jack, Jimmy, and Fred waited by the entrance while the receptionist made the call. Jack’s mind was racing, running through every possibility. Maybe Ryan had wandered off and gotten lost. Maybe he’d had some kind of accident. Or maybe…

No. Jack didn’t want to entertain the darker possibilities.

Within minutes, a couple of security guards arrived, their radios crackling as they were briefed on the situation. The search began in earnest, with the guards combing through the course and the surrounding woods, calling out for Ryan.

But as the hours ticked by, the sense of dread deepened. There was still no sign of him.

As the sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the resort, Jack, Jimmy, and Fred sat in the lodge’s bar, silent and exhausted. They had searched everywhere—every inch of the course, every trail in the woods, even around the nearby lake.

Ryan was gone.

“I don’t get it,” Fred muttered, staring into his drink. “It’s like he just disappeared. One minute he’s right there, the next… nothing.”

Jimmy, who had been unusually quiet, looked up, his face pale. “Do you think something… happened to him? Like, something bad?”

Jack didn’t want to say it out loud, but the thought had been gnawing at him all day. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But something’s not right.

That night, Jack lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day replayed over and over in his mind, each detail becoming sharper, more disturbing. Ryan’s distant behavior, his strange comments about not wanting to be there, the way he had just disappeared without a trace.

Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on—something they were missing.

He thought about the last conversation he’d had with Ryan at the bar the night before, the way Ryan had said he didn’t feel like he was supposed to be here.

Was there something Ryan hadn’t told them? Something he’d been keeping to himself?

Jack’s mind spun with questions, but no answers came.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Jack woke to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He groggily reached for it, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the name on the screen: Ryan.

He fumbled to answer it, his voice shaking as he said, “Ryan? Is that you?”

But there was no response.

Only silence.

“Ryan?” Jack repeated, his voice louder now, more urgent.

Then, just as he was about to hang up, he heard something—a faint sound, almost like a whisper. Jack strained to listen, his heart pounding in his chest.

The whisper grew louder, clearer, until Jack could make out the words.

“Help me.”

Jack’s blood ran cold.

The line went dead.

He stared at his phone in disbelief, his mind reeling. That voice—it had been Ryan’s. He was sure of it.

But where was he?

And why did he sound so far away?

Jack sat up in bed, his hands trembling. Ryan was out there somewhere, and he was in trouble.

But the question that haunted Jack more than anything else was how far this trouble went—and whether they would ever truly find Ryan again.